


Did Someone Say Study Buddy? (Kageyama Tobio x Reader)

by beccascribbles



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26837956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccascribbles/pseuds/beccascribbles
Summary: Kageyama is desperate, so desperate that, when he fails another English test, he listens to Hinata's tutor recommendation and asks you for help. Neither of you were expecting the relationship that formed between you as a result of a series of tutoring sessions.
Relationships: Haikyuu/Reader, Kageyama Tobio & Reader, Kageyama Tobio/Reader, Kageyama/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71





	Did Someone Say Study Buddy? (Kageyama Tobio x Reader)

It was with hands trembling that he approached your desk, shooting a nervous glance over his shoulder at the small group huddled by the door. Hinata waved his hands in a 'go' gesture, encouraging him to approach you, while Yamaguchi gave him a thumbs up. Tsukishima, despite declaring he was not interested in Kageyama's educational escapades, had come to watch. He just wanted to see the boy fail. Raising an eyebrow, you looked up at the black-haired boy that you had immediately recognised as Kageyama. Who could forget that face when you had watched him get stopped in the corridor to be handed small gifts by blushing girls, and then watched him hand them over to the energetic ginger at his side?

"Can I help you, Kageyama?" you questioned, shocking the poor boy. Nervously, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, avoiding making eye contact with you. His expression was tense, and you were almost certain this was something he had been forced to do. A glance at the doorway confirmed this, his small group of friends unable to move out of view fast enough. Although, truth be told, Tsukishima had not even bothered to hide. It had been Yamaguchi pulling him out of sight behind the wall.

"Um..." he stammered, face burning a bright red. To think he could look so at home on a volleyball court but so awkward when tasked with an actual conversation was laughable to you. "Um, I, um, heard that you were really smart from Tsukishima, and Hinata was pretty much singing your praises earlier this week when you helped him study before a test..."

He trailed off, looking behind him again. You could not help but wonder as to what kind of emotional support he was seeking from them. Hinata was snickering as he whispered something to Yamaguchi, who was red from holding in his laughter. Meanwhile, Tsukishima was just smirking at the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Yeah, I heard Hinata passed that test," you said, leaning around Kageyama to shout to the hallway. "Well done, Hinata! I knew you could do it."

"You really helped, L/N," he shouted back, beaming at you. "If you hadn't broken down the concepts in such an easy way, I never would have been able to understand it."

Kageyama cleared his throat in an attempt to bring your attention back to him. His hands were now stuffed in the pockets of his trousers, and he was focused on some point above your head.

"Yes?"

"I-I was wondering if you would be able to tutor me in English," he stated, stumbling and tripping over his words. A loud snicker from the hallway caused him to spin and glare at the taller boy, who just snickered louder. When he moved as if he were about to head towards him, you reached out and clasped his wrist, stilling him.

"I would love to tutor you. When are you free? We can work around your schedule as much as possible. I know how busy you are, what with volleyball practice and all."

"Does this Saturday work?"

And that was how you found yourself sitting beside the black-haired boy at nine o'clock that Saturday morning. Textbooks, along with his workbook, were strewn along the desk in front of you.

Currently, you were going over what he had covered in class that week to attempt to pick out some weak points. It was clear to you that his memory was good. When you had quizzed him, he was able to recite the grammar rules perfectly. His spelling was so accurate it made you slightly envious. But, when it came to the application of those facts, he was clueless. You read the sentence one last time.

"Can you tell me why this is wrong?" you asked, indicating it on the page with a point of your pen. He looked down at the page, brows furrowing in concentration as he read.

"I think my spelling is correct," he stated, looking over at you for reassurance. You nodded your head, urging him to continue. "Is the word order incorrect?"

Again, you nodded your head. "Yep, that's correct. Well done, Kageyama! Now, can you tell me why the word order is incorrect?"

He rubbed the back of his head, returning to studying the sentence. His pen followed along with the line of writing. "Instead of using the English sentence structure of subject-verb-object, I used the Japanese sentence structure."

You smiled, extremely pleased at his ability to critique his own work so confidently. "Good. Remind me what the Japanese sentence structure is."

"Subject-object-verb," he replied with a confidence that you weren't expecting.

The rest of the session continued in a similar pattern, with you getting him to critique what was wrong in his own work. You thought that by helping him see what he was doing wrong currently, he would be able to learn from his mistakes and stop himself from making them in the future. This seemed to be having the desired effect, with the pause he needed to figure out the answer shortening the longer you worked.

You glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall. It was twelve o'clock. "Alright, I think it's time to wrap this up for now. Can you do the same time next week?"

He nodded in affirmation, beginning to gather up the textbooks to return them to the shelf they had been taken from. You hadn't really needed them due to his knowledge of the basics, so they had simply been on the table to take up space. While he put the books away, you gathered your stuff together to put in your bag, also putting his stuff in a neat pile that he could pack away when he returned. Upon his return, he quickly stuffed them into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder once be had finished. Awkwardly, he pulled at the strap.

"Would you like to get some lunch?" he asked, gaze settling on a slight crack in the wall behind you. "Just as a thanks for helping. Not like as a date or anything."

"Relax," you laughed, patting his arm lightly as you walked past him. "I didn't think it was a date and, now that you mentioned it, I would love to get lunch with you."

It took him a moment to process your words, and the fact that you were already walking towards the exit. Hurriedly, he walked after you, his long strides easily allowing him to catch up. You turned to him with a wide grin, "So, what's the plan? You got a specific place in mind?"

He found himself returning your grin. It was infectious. "Not really. But I'll think of something."

From your first tutoring session onward, it became something of a routine to get lunch together afterwards, leading to the formation of an easy friendship. While Kageyama could still be slightly awkward at times, his habit of blushing furiously had diminished slightly. He genuinely enjoyed the conversations with you. You listened with rapt attention when he ranted about volleyball, a fact that warmed him to his core. It was rare to talk to someone who didn't automatically act uninterested when the topic turned to what he was passionate about. But you admired that passion. You encouraged it. And, like you encouraged his passion, he encouraged yours.

At one of your lunches together, you had let it slip that you were currently working on a novel, just a light-hearted way for you to let your creativity flow. It had never been your intention to write for someone else to enjoy. It was just an escape for you, something you found enjoyment in. Something you were passionate about. Your novel was simply a passion project, nothing more, nothing less.

"Tomorrow, I'm probably just going to work on my novel," you said in response to Kageyama's question. He had just finished telling you his plans for Sunday (it consisted of a lot of volleyball specific training to fine tune his skills as a setter, and also a run - which he had invited you to join him on one time only for you to immediately refuse) and then enquired after yours.

"Your novel?" he questioned. "You're writing a book?"

"No, no, it's nothing serious," you chuckled awkwardly. This time it was you desperately trying not to make eye contact. "It's only for fun. Like a little passion project."

"For fun?" he said, searching for your gaze across the table. Finally, your eyes dropped to meet his deep blue ones. "I think it's really cool that you've got something you're passionate about."

Those were almost the exact same words you had said to Kageyama when he had tripped his way through an apology after going on about volleyball for an hour.

"Oh..."

It came out on an exhalation of breath. For most of your life, you had hidden the books you had written, terrified of judgement. Yet here Kageyama was telling you that it was cool. "Um, I can show it to you if you want. Maybe you could read it? Tell me what you think?"

He nodded his head in response. "What's it about?"

You launched into an explanation, not only outlining the plot, but also providing him with the main character's backstory, along with their planned arc. He just listened, nodding his head. The way you were so animated pulled him in, making him admire you even more as a person. It was hard to find people with a true passion, so devoted to their sport, their hobby, that they lost all sense of anything else. Yet, here you were and there he was.

The friendship you formed was so easy and comfortable to be in for the both of you that you gravitated towards each other. At school, it became rare to see you apart during the break times. It wasn't uncommon for Kageyama to show up outside your class with two cartoons of milk, one for you and the other for him, before you followed him out to the courtyard where you would just sit and chat. Sometimes, you would poke your head into their volleyball practice if you had stayed late in the library. It was always to say goodbye to him but ended with him telling you to wait for him so he could walk home with you. On those days, Daichi always thanked you for stopping Kageyama from practising more. Given the chance, he would stay until his muscles ached, until he was close to collapsing out of exhaustion.

During the weekends, your tutoring sessions had now moved from the neutral ground of the library to one of your houses. He would host one week, with you hosting the next. If it were at his house, you could guarantee that you would be roped in to helping him with some form of volleyball practice after, leaving you sweaty and in need of a shower. Therefore, Kageyama now had a drawer in his room specifically for you to leave spare clothes in. If it was at your house, after tutoring, you read the next part of your novel to him as he listened, his head resting against your thigh. He would always give you his opinion, managing to explain why he had liked certain parts. Then, you would convince him to watch a film with you. Sometimes it would be a comedy, other times it would be a volleyball documentary.

When Hinata had found out that you had a drawer of your things at Kageyama's place, he had become almost unbearable.

Kageyama had let it slip while he was talking to you about your plans for the weekend, telling you it wasn't necessary to bring any more spare clothes when you visited due to the amount already occupying the drawer. Hinata had chosen that moment to walk up to you.

"Why would Kageyama have your clothes at his?" asked Hinata. Both you and Kageyama paused, sharing a look that Hinata automatically read the wrong way. "Oh my god! Are you dating? No way! There's no way Kageyama would ever find some who would want to date him."

"No!"

"We're not dating!"

You both snapped in unison, blushing profusely. Kageyama glared at the smaller boy, "We're just friends, boke. Stop making a big deal out of nothing."

By the time you were in your third year, everyone just assumed you were together. It was a fair assumption to make. You attended all his volleyball games wearing his jersey, would occasionally wait for him to finish practice before going home together and it was rare to find one without the other. He supported you, always there to cheer you on at a school related event or writing competition. He had, after all, been the one who had encouraged you to enter your first writing contest, where you had won runner-up. The photo of you grinning while holding your certificate was one of his favourites. It was also his lock screen photo. Coincidentally, your lock screen was also a photo of him. It was after he was told that he would be representing Japan in the u19s team. He had looked so happy in that moment that you still felt proud of him whenever you saw the photo. You were also both very affectionate with each other considering you were ‘only’ friends. After breaking through the initial awkwardness he felt at physical closeness, being close to you, touching you, brought him reassurance. He would always have an arm slung over your shoulder as you walked. When sitting, he would always be pressed against you, his body warm where it touched yours. In private, it was common for you just to cuddle, your face pressed into the crook of his neck as he held you close to him. As you watched a film, he would have his arms wrapped around you, holding you carefully as you rested against his chest, situated comfortably between his legs.

There was also the small fact that neither of you had entertained the idea of dating someone during high school. Both of you had been asked out multiple times, only for the answer to be no. It was easy for people to assume Kageyama was just too focused on volleyball to be in a relationship that would require so much of his attention. In your case, people found it odd that you had not even gone on a date. Naturally, they just assumed that Kageyama was your boyfriend, so the confessions of love stopped for the both of you. You were not oblivious as to why they had stopped but decided not to deny the claims. It was easier for people to think you were in a relationship; it was less exhausting than having to expend the energy required to reject them.

Kageyama, as much as he hated himself for it, would sometimes find himself wishing that were the case. He could not deny that he was attracted to you. Wherever you were, his eyes were drawn to you. They would follow you around a room, enticed by the way you moved. And, when you were finally close enough to touch, he was unable to stop himself from reaching out and pulling you towards him. It was definite that his own actions had fuelled the rumours. Most of your potential suitors had been on the receiving end of a cold glare from the setter at your side. However, despite this desire for you, he told himself he would never act on it. This was partly due to volleyball. He could admit that your friendship was distracting enough, able to pull him away from the sport with ease. Entering a relationship with you would make it harder, and he could not let that happen. Volleyball was the most important thing in his life. You would always be second, as much as he might want you, or need you, to be there with him.

For the most part, you were unaware of his feelings. Or, at the very least, you acted like you were. You could acknowledge that he was both overly protective and affection with you considering he claimed to only view you as a close friend. The glares he directed at people had not gone unnoticed by you, especially as they had always been accompanied by the tightening of his arm around you. Equally, you could not deny that his behaviour towards you made you feel giddy. You could not deny that feeling his arm wrap around you to pull you against him made your heart race, or how the sight of him made your breath catch. You could not deny that having his support meant everything to you. But you also could not deny that his attachment to volleyball would override any feelings towards you, no matter how strong they were.

“You need to tell him to stop,” Ichika said, giving you a pointed look. She could see how much you cared for him, how much this affection for him was slowly destroying you. “The way he’s acting is unacceptable. If he’s not going to date you himself, he should stop being so damn possessive.”

You looked up from your coffee. Her words had struck a chord in you. You knew his behaviour was unacceptable, but you let it continue in the hope that it would transform into what you wanted: for Kageyama to finally act on his feelings for you. “Don’t you think I know that? I know it’s bad. I know I should tell him to stop. But I can’t help thinking that if I let it continue, he may finally realise what’s been staring us in the face for the past two and a bit years.”

You were so close to breaking. You could feel your eyes beginning to burn from suppressed tears. Again, you looked down at your coffee, hoping that focusing on a specific point would stop the tears from forcing their way out. Ichika reached out a hand to touch yours gently.

“Come on, Y/N,” she practically pleaded. “This isn’t healthy, and you know it. The relationship you have with Kageyama now isn’t good for either of you. You can’t let him control you like this.”

“Control me?” you snapped, pulling your hand out of your friend’s hold. “He’s not controlling me. He would never do that to me. You know as well as me that he struggles with his feelings and how to express them. If I told him how I felt, I know he’d stop. But I don’t want him to. If I tell him, he’ll pull away. I’d rather keep him like this than risk not having him at all.”

“Y/N, sit back down,” said Ichika, looking up at you. During your rant, you had risen from your seat. You were visibly shaking, whether from anger at what your friend was insinuating or frustration at the truth of your relationship with Kageyama you could not tell. The tears you had worked so hard to suppress were freely rolling down your cheeks.

“No,” you said, turning to walk away. “I think I’m going to go home. I don’t really feel like talking anymore. I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

You walked out, hands fumbling for your phone. As much as he was the cause for your tears right now, it was his comfort you craved. So, you called him. He picked up on the first ring, sounding breathless as if you had interrupted his training. His greeting was unusually harsh. Shit. You had forgotten that the volleyball team had arranged an extra practice session today to prepare for nationals.

“Tobio...” you said, voice cracking. It was clear you were crying. Your voice was thick with emotion. All he could hear were your sobs in his ear. “I’m sorry. I forgot you were busy. I’ll just call... actually, I don’t know who else I’d call.”

Your laugh was bitter, and the concern he felt for you hit him with so much force he almost keeled over. You had not even told him what you needed yet, and he was already beginning to gather all of his things together. “What is it, Y/N? What happened? Where are you?”

“I’m walking to yours from the café close by.” Another sob escaped your lips. “I just need to see you.”

He remembered you telling him that you had planned to meet Ichika there for a drink and a chat. You were unsure as to why she had wanted to have a chat, and he could clearly recall you saying that your friend looked very serious when she had asked to meet up. “I’ll be home soon. Just use the key I gave you to go in... What did Ichika tell you?”

That caused you to pause. He heard your breathing still through the phone. What could Ichika possibly have said that would have made you so upset? You interrupted his chain of thought when you spoke again. “It’s not important, Tobio.”

“Not important?” he snapped, fist clenching around his phone. “If it’s not important, then why are you fucking cry? Why did you call me during volleyball practice?”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. The sound made his heart crack, almost breaking through his sudden haze of anger. “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. It’s not a big deal. I’m just getting upset over nothing.”

“Fine.” His voice had changed again, becoming cold. “If it’s nothing, I’ll see you when I finish practice.”

You heard the stuff he had begun to gather clatter to the floor before he hung up. He chucked his phone back in his open bag, turning to face his friends. The rest of the team were still training, but they had stopped, turning to look at him as soon as he had begun to collect his things, the concern evident in his voice and the lines of his body.

“What was that about, Kageyama?” asked Hinata, looking at his friend with concern. Though his voice had been cold before he had hung up on you, Hinata could still see the conflict on his friend’s face. Concern for you was evident in the set of his face, but his need to improve outweighed your obvious need for him in that moment. “L/N is clearly really upset. Why are you still here?”

“You can go to her if you want,” said Yamaguchi. “You know Coach won’t mind. Plus, recently, you’ve been spending more time here than usual. Missing the end of this practice session won’t affect you at all.”

“Let’s just get back to practice.” His voice was curt, clipped. It left no room for further discussion.

Kageyama walked back over to serve again, ignoring the concerned looks his friends shared. Even Tsukishima was worried, his eyes scanning Kageyama as if trying to gauge his emotional state. Throughout the rest of training, guilt gnawed at Kageyama’s conscience. His mind kept drifting to you, your sobs, the way your voice cracked. But he was too stubborn to leave now, too obsessed with improving in volleyball to waste his concern on you. However, as soon as training ended, he was the first to leave, sprinting out of the school.

Before heading home, he grabbed some of your favourite comfort foods, barely even acknowledging that it was physically impossible to eat the amount of food he had shoved into his bag in one sitting. When he entered his house, he headed straight to his room, knowing that was where you were most likely to be.

What he was not expecting was the sight that greeted him. You were curled up on his bed, hugging his pillow to your chest. But that was not what sent a spike of hot desire running through him. You were only wearing his jumper, your clothes neatly folded on the floor at the foot of his bed. In your curled-up position, his jumper just covered your arse, leaving your bare legs on display. It was clear you were fast asleep. With a sigh, he placed the bag of food gently on the floor before reaching for a blanket and placing it over your sleeping form. He brushed a kiss to the top of your head. Then, he left the room to wash.

Once he returned, dressed more comfortably (topless and in a pair of loose-fitting joggers), he made his way back over to you, sitting beside your sleeping form on his bed. He brushed your hair away from your face, treasuring the soft feel of your skin against the pads of his fingers. He wanted to lie down with you, to pull you against his chest and curl around you. He wanted to protect you from everything that could hurt you, not realising the main person responsible for that was him, no matter how much you struggled to admit it. But something stopped him from lying down beside you and holding you in his arms.

He had added to your hurt. His sudden anger had not been towards you, though it had been directed your way. Though he had not meant to hurt you then, he knew that he had. But he also knew that incident would not be held against him. It was when he had deliberately made his voice go cold, telling you that he would not be there to comfort you anytime soon. In the back of his head, he knew you were clearly not upset about nothing, that it was important. Hearing you talk like that after interrupting his practice, however, had made him snap. He should not have done it. He should have come running to you. If his obsession with volleyball did not control him like it did...

Kageyama pulled away from you, getting up from the bed. As he turned away to search for a futon to put on the floor, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You croaked softly, “Tobio, can you hold me?”

And your relationship continued in much the same way, the incident of that day largely forgotten, your feelings on the matter remained suppressed. Both of you only had eyes for each other, but neither of you were inclined to speak those feelings aloud. Finally, you graduated from Karasuno, both still firmly attached to each other.  
All those hidden feelings eventually fulminated at the graduation party Hinata had decided to host, inviting former members of the Karasuno Volleyball Club along with people from rival teams. Kageyama had asked you to come with him, so you had entered the party on his arm to a chorus of ‘so you’re finally together?’ and statements echoing that sentiment. You had had to shake your head, forcing a smile on your face as you jokingly dismissed the claims.

“No, we’re just friends,” you said. “This boy has only got one thing on his mind and that’s volleyball.”

You were unaware of how incorrect that statement was. Since he had secured a spot with the Schweiden Adlers following graduation, his mind had been drifting to you more often. Truth be told, you were often all he could think about - your figure, your touch, your smile. As selfish as it was, he wanted you like this, with him, for as long as you would have him.

Kageyama forced a laugh at your words, not seeing the hurt look in your eyes as he unwittingly agreed with your statement.

“I don’t know why you’re not dating yet,” sighed Sugawara, swaying slightly as he walked up to you. “After he called asking me for advice, I thought he was finally aware of his attraction for you.”

“What?” You blinked at Sugawara, needing a moment to digest his words. Then you spun to face Kageyama. “You what?”

“I’m not attracted to you, Y/N,” spat Kageyama, shrugging you off him. “You know as well as I do. We’re only friends... and that’s all we’re ever going to be.”

“Hey...” said Sugawara, fumbling for a way to stop this from escalating. It was clear that Kageyama’s words stemmed from his fear that acting on his feelings would affect his volleyball in some way. Meanwhile, you looked close to crumbling, Kageyama’s last statement highlighting how pointless your feelings towards him were. “Maybe you two should walk away before this escalates.”

“You know what, Kageyama?” you snapped back, the emotions you had been holding back bursting out of you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and your fingernails bit into the skin of your palm. “Fuck off. I’m done with this, whatever this is.”

With that, you spun around, storming further into the party. Kageyama quickly lost sight of your figure in the sea of volleyball players. His cheeks felt wet. He was shaking, all control over his body gone as he launched a punch at the wall to his left. Skin ruptured. Glancing down at his fist revealed split knuckles and blood welling up from the cracks.

“Fuck.”

You pushed through the people, desperately searching for anything to help you feel less empty inside. Less broken. Alcohol. That was your answer. Your gaze landed on a table that looked close to collapsing due to the amount of bottles on it. No one would miss one measly bottle. Not fully aware of who might be watching you, you grabbed the largest one, took off the cap, and drank from it deeply. The liquid burned your throat, a welcoming distraction from the numbness you were currently drowning in.

This time, when you pushed through the crowd, you were holding the neck of a bottle, looking for somewhere to collapse. Your eyes landed on the open back door. Perfect. The cool air against your skin made you shiver, causing you to pull the jacket tighter around your form. You studied the black denim. It was Kageyama’s jacket. He had draped it over your shoulders before leaving, tucking you into the warm material, letting his hands linger at your waist before placing a light kiss on the top of your head. A bitter laugh escaped your mouth. How fucking typical that you were still relying on him to help you, even if it was just his jacket. Actions guided by nothing more than hatred at your own inability to do anything without him, you ripped it off you, throwing it down beside you.

Without his jacket to ward against the chill, you realised how cold it was. You simply shrugged, raising the bottle to your lips in the hopes that the bite of the alcohol would fight away the cold. When a jacket dropped on your shoulders, you barely registered it.

“L/N, come inside,” said the voice beside you. Vaguely, you recognised it as Tsukishima’s. Blearily, you tilted your head to look up at him. “It’s cold. You’re going to catch a fever or something.”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you slurred, slipping your arms into the sleeves of his jacket. It was warm. You snuggled further into the warmth. He just rolled his eyes at you, grabbing you from underneath your arms and pulling you to your feet. You stumbled into him, feeling wobbly and unfocused. “Shit, I think I’m drunk.”

“Nope, you’re obviously completely sober.” His voice was dry, the sarcasm in his tone clear. You shot him a glare, poking your tongue out at him. He observed with a hint of superiority in his tone of voice, “Now, that was childish.”

“I don’t care,” you pouted. “I’m drunk and upset.”

Wrapping an arm around his, you leaned on him heavily as he walked with you back into the party. Barely audible above the noise, you mumbled, “I want Tobio. I really love him… Why does he always hurt me?”

To be honest, hearing you like this made Tsukishima’s chest ache. He had his doubts about your relationship with Kageyama, had taken to observing the dynamic between you two. For quite some time, he had seen the hurt that waited just beneath the surface, the way your eyes would suddenly become unfocused when you came to watch Kageyama practice. It was clear you were thinking back to that day, the way he had addressed you so coldly and emphasised the importance of volleyball over your well-being.

Kageyama watched you with Tsukishima from across the room, his right-hand throbbing with pain. After Daichi had helped Kageyama clean it up, he had told him to go home. Kageyama had refused. Despite the words you had spat at him, he could not leave until he knew you were safe. He had watched you, watched as you attempted to drown your sorrows in alcohol. He knew he probably should have approached you, offered to take you home before you got too drunk. It was clearly past that point now. You were clinging onto Tsukishima as if your life depended on it. This made him grit his teeth in annoyance. It should have been him there to support you. Although, if he had not lost his temper with you earlier simply because he was in love with you, none of this would have happened.

He strode across the room towards Tsukishima, powered by some urge to be the one to take care of you like he had been doing since that first tutoring session. “I’m going to take Y/N home.”  
“Do you really think she wants to be anywhere near you right now?” questioned Tsukishima, glancing down at you briefly. At the sound of Kageyama’s voice, you had let out a breathy moan, fingers twitching on his arm as if you wanted to reach out to him.

“Tobio…” you mumbled, clearly drunk. You removed your arm from Tsukishima’s, reaching out for Kageyama. “I need you. Please. Don’t leave me. I need you.”

I need you.

The words rang around his head as he curled a protective arm around your waist. You were turned into him, nose pressed against the material of his shirt. One of your hands gripped his shirt tightly, fingers curling in the thin material. He began to walk away with you towards his car. Even if this whole situation had not happened, it was still his turn to be the designated driver.

Silently, he helped you into the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt and brushing a soft kiss to your cheek before shutting the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He opened the door, sliding into the seat and looking over at you once more to double-check that you were strapped in. Much to his surprise (and slight annoyance), you had decided to unbuckle the seat belt. He huffed, leaning over to grab the belt, “Seriously, Y/N.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stilling his movement. Slowly, you brought his hand down to rest on the smooth skin of your exposed thigh. Kageyama froze, his gaze flickering to yours. Your face was so close to his he could feel the heat of your breath against his lips. Gently, almost teasingly, you rubbed the tip of your nose against his. He let loose a breath he did not realise he had been holding, allowing the pad of his thumb to begin rubbing smooth circles on your thigh. While his fingers danced across your skin, you grazed your finger along his jawline, the other hand reaching up to tangle in his hair. Unable to help yourself, feeling needy, just wanting him, you leant in, letting your lips brush against his. Once. Twice. On the third time, Kageyama’s restraint broke, the hand on your thigh tightening while the other went to the nape of your neck, pulling you into him harshly.

His lips pushed against yours, the swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip enough for you to open for him. He tasted you. Greedily. Hungrily. His tongue tangling with yours teasingly as the kiss deepened. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you from your seat beside him. You clambered over the gear stick, falling into his lap. The kiss broke momentarily as you adjusted your position, straddling him, both hands clutching onto his black hair. You did not have to wait long until his lips were back on yours, hands trailing down to grasp at your arse as he strained upwards in his seat to push his clothed centre into yours. The moan you let out against his lips did not go unnoticed, and he ground upwards into you, eliciting another soft groan. You pulled away slightly, stuttering out his name, “T-T-Tobio. Fuck.”

Your breath carried with it the stench of alcohol, seeming to pull him to his sense. Suddenly he released you, causing you to flop forward against him, hands still clutching his hair. Your head was pressed against his shoulder. “Tobio?”

He lifted you off him, returning you to your seat beside him. Without looking at you, he put your seat belt back on, trying to avoid touching you, afraid the feel of your skin and the way you were looking at him, eyes dark with desire, would cause him to snap again.

“Tobio?” you questioned again, voice painfully soft, as if you feared his reaction. “Do you not want me?”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Fuck. Of course, I want you. You don’t know how much I crave you. How much my thoughts end up drifting to you.”

“Then why’d you stop?”

“Because I can’t,” he said, the words physical paining him to speak. “You’re a distraction. One I can’t afford as much as I might want it.”

A broken sob escaped your lips. But he did not reach over to offer you comfort, as much as he might have wanted to. And, although that night ended with you sleeping at his house, the next morning, there was a noticeable wall up between you. The once easy affection you shared was unwanted, Kageyama maintaining physical distance with you as much as possible.

Though it pained you to admit, your relationship was never the same after that. It was never easy. It was never comfortable. It was tense, awkward even. Though you parted ways as friends, him going to the Schweiden Adlers and you off to university, it was as if a fundamental part of your relationship was broken, a part that you were not aware of until it snapped.


End file.
